NaNoWriMo 2019: Day 3 (Ninjas)
by poetically-damaged
Summary: N/A


_"It's going to be fun," they said. "Woojin, it's just a Halloween party," they said. "You have to come out of your comfort zone sometime," they said._

"Bullshit," Woojin said, muffled by the black fabric of his ninja mask.

Although Kim Woojin easily towers most people, both in the breadth of his shoulders and his overall height, he's not one who wants to make himself known. Having said that, he doesn't know how he managed to be such close friends with Lee Minho and Hwang Hyunjin, both eye-catching, ethereal beauties who can either make you melt with saccharine smiles or crumble with intimidation. They're both effortlessly charming, and Woojin is almost sure that the world decided to push them towards one another, in the hopes that their social confidence would rub off on him. In the end, Woojin can at least be sure that they're a powerful trio: Hyunjin's uncanny ability to recognize any face and name and link it to another person or circumstance, Woojin's silent disposition that allows him to observe body language and read between the lines, and Minho's ever-tangible presence, which commands attention and compels people to _move_, like the way the moon pushes and pulls the waves and tides. Undeniably, the three are a combination like no other.

It leads him to his current predicament however, since he's not entirely sure he knows how to function without the safe presence of his friends. He's been fortunate enough thus far to be pulled to the couch by two innocent-looking underclassmen—Lee Felix, dressed much like the sun god, Apollo with body shimmer on his freckled cheeks and bare shoulders and gold paint on his arms and legs, and Kim Seungmin wearing Ravenclaw robes, complete with Luna Lovegood's wand in one hand and a published copy of "Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them" in the other—who seemed content to just keep him company while refilling his cup with ginger ale. Unfortunately, they leave him too. Seungmin is first to go as Hyunjin, dressed like Prince Eric from "The Little Mermaid" asks him to dance, and after ingesting just enough liquid courage—a cute, pale yellow cocktail Seungmin offered both of them, which he dubbed "Felix Felicis"—Felix stands up to collect a short, intimidating looking boy drinking by the corner, wearing the replica of My Chemical Romance's costume in "Welcome To The Black Parade" and asks him to dance.

He isn't alone for long since a very drunk, yet very beautiful boy decides that he's had enough of dancing and lands his head right onto Woojin's shoulder. He was dressed in what was a well-constructed copy of Captain James Tiberius Kirk's uniform in "Star Trek: Beyond". Even with his newly dyed blonde hair and blue contact lenses, Woojin could still recognize him.

(And how could he not when he's all he could see in his mind's eye.)

"Hello," the boy said, giving him a wide, heart-shaped smile. "I'm Chan."

The proximity combined with the intoxicating smell of alcohol mixed with cologne had Woojin's breath caught in his throat. Never in his life would he have dreamed of even talking to Bang Chan—genius producer and leader of his rap trio, well-known to many and envied by many more—much less be this close to being able to count his lashes as they fan against his rosy cheeks.

"You have really pretty eyes," he continues. "Really, really pretty." He giggles, then, and Woojin is sure he's not going to make it alive by the end of the night. How could he, when his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest and sprint away from the party?

"You know who else has pretty eyes? Kim Woojin." Chan lets out a dreamy sigh as he nuzzles his face into Woojin's neck. "You probably don't know him, though. He seems quite shy." Woojin watches Chan watch his hands as they play with the hem of his jacket. "So, so shy. I always try to look him in the eye, but I fail every time." Chan wraps his arms around Woojin, then. He feels just as much as he hears Chan sniff at his fabric-clad collarbone. "You smell like him, too, and I know that because ever since I heard him sing for Brian's project I sat in front of him in our composition class."

Woojin's eyes widened. He'd heard him sing?

"He sounded so, so good, you know? And his butt looks even better every time he's going down to exit the lecture hall."

_Holy shit._ Woojin's going to implode. He could barely handle a sociable, charming Chan from a distance. Who the fuck thought it was a good idea to give him a chatty-drunk, clingy Chan?

"Sometimes I feel bad for staring like I'm a creep or something. Whatever, it's not like he notices me anyway."

If Chan only knew. Woojin noticed everything about Chan: how he always has to be dragged out of the studio by his friends, how he always tries to please everyone around him, how he's caring and comforting and charming. He's so _brave_, and Woojin, with his inability to even speak to strangers on most days, could _never_—

"He does." Woojin didn't realize he was talking until he felt every shift of his mask as his jaw moved. "Maybe you're just not looking back when he is. Looking, I mean."

Chan slowly retracts his head from the junction of Woojin's shoulder and neck. He almost whined at the loss, but he'd rather prefer a hiding Chan than a Chan that slowly blinks up at him with hazy eyes like he's seeing the world for the first time. "You really think, so?" Woojin just nods, no longer able to speak.

The brightest grin makes its way to his lips and cheeks, gleeful and pure and so, so _happy_.

As Chan cups his face and kisses him through the mask in thanks, Woojin promises that he'd step out of his comfort zone more often if it means he could always make Chan this happy.


End file.
